A word or to upon the lips
From an angel hands on hips
speaking words so fluently
Spinning a tale for you and me

We carefully listen to the demons trial
Nothing written story wild
We listen to dragons and pixies dust
To small islands and diamonds lust

To ever lasting life and joy
Scary creatures and walking toys
To houses of gingerbread not paint
The sun is setting its getting late

The angle keeps going not slowing down
As we paint pictures of the town
The tales of beauty and fait
Of pirate ships and lions mates

We knew as we listened the places weren’t real
But to be there a minute we knew we would kill
For all the things that night we see
it was all a dream